


Of Course

by whalehuntingboyfriends



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, and criminals behaving in a far too juvenile way, miscommunication angst, relationship drama, the others are involved but not as main
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 05:39:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5773450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalehuntingboyfriends/pseuds/whalehuntingboyfriends
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s very simple. You take turns saying a question or a statement and the other person is only allowed to answer with <i>of course.</i> No matter what you say.”</p>
<p>Michael is determined never to fall for someone he works with, but equally determined to find out who Gavin’s secret crush is. And when Gavin comes up with a new game, Michael immediately finds a way to turn it against him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Course

Like many regrettable things, it happened on a stake out.

Michael was not particularly fond of stake outs, and the crew rarely had cause to do one, but right now they were waiting to see if a rival gang had been meeting up with one of their main clients on the sly. They’d been here three hours and counting and he still wasn’t quite sure if it would have been better if he was on his own instead of with Ryan and Gavin.

The sun had set while they were here. Gavin had already left the car to make two separate McDonalds runs (“Look, I didn’t know that I wanted a McFlurry the _first_ time. Sometimes you just don’t feel like dessert yet, right?”) and Michael had played so much Crossy Road that when he blinked he saw small animals jumping into traffic on the backs of his eyelids. On the plus side, he’d beaten Gavin’s high score.

But they’d reached the ‘awkward silence’ stage of the evening, because after Ryan made the comment “The easiness of cleaning blood off a tiled floor has gotta be weighed against how slippery the tiles get - when you slit someone’s jugular, it’s like a fucking pressure hose, y’know?” all Michael and Gavin could do was sort of look at each other and say “I see” and at that point Ryan had slit the jugular of the fucking _conversation_ because really, what were you meant to say to that?

At least until Gavin declared, “Let’s play a game!”

“We’re not playing _I Spy_ again,” Michael replied immediately. “ _Creepy aura_ does not count as an answer even if Ryan’s in the car with us. It’s not fucking _I Sense_.”

“No, I have a new game. A _better_ game. _The ultimate game_.” Gavin had been banished to the back seat half an hour ago but he leaned forward now, popping his head in between them. “It’s called the Of Course game.”

“Never heard of it,” Michael replied immediately.

“Did you get this from Jon?” Ryan asked. Jon was the source of most of Gavin’s terrible stake out games, many of which involved the alphabet, and which had led to the revelation some time ago that most members of the crew had forgotten everything they’d learned in kindergarten.

(“But look,” Ryan always said, “Give me one good reason the alphabet actually has to be in an _order.”_

“Um, _obviously_ so that the song rhymes?” was Gavin’s response, earning himself a smack. _)_

“Nope, I saw it on this show,” Gavin said. “Anyway. It’s very simple. Two people play against each other, right, and you take turns saying a question or a statement and the other person is only allowed to answer with _of course_. No matter what you say. If they take too long, or they refuse, or if they get angry,” and here he gave a grin that was far too mischievous for Michael’s liking, “Then the other person wins!”

“Give me an example of a question,” Ryan said immediately. He was probably already looking for loopholes, the fucker.

“Like if I said, Ryan, are you aware that your face paint looks like it was done by a preschooler, you’d have to answer _of course_ ,” Gavin said.

It was at this point that Michael confirmed his theory that Gavin had not updated his library of insults since he was in primary school.

“What a fucking stupid game,” he declared, “Just say _of course_ to everything and you’ve already fucking won. Who cares what you’re agreeing to, everyone knows it’s just to win the game.”

“Michael, you’re just a mingey little killjoy, aren’t you?”

“For pointing out that huge, glaring flaw in your game?”

“Ha! I won,” Gavin said, and pulled that particular screwed-up face that always made Michael want to punch him square in his enormous nose. “You didn’t say _of course_.”

“I’m not fucking _playing_ , asshole,” Michael sneered back.

“It does seem flawed,” Ryan murmured, although he sounded _thoughtful_ , because of course the Vagabond was already looking for a way to use what sounded like a fifth grader’s sleepover game for _evil_.

“I bet you two hundred dollars that I can beat you, Ryan,” Gavin said - and then after a second, laughed as though some idea had come to him, “Actually, I bet you five hundred dollars!”

Michael and Ryan both straightened up at this. Five hundred dollars was not a lot of money considering what they pulled on heists regularly, but the level of confidence in Gavin’s voice was suspicious. And as great as the joy of stealing money from a bank was, the joy of taking _Gavin’s_ money when he lost a bet was infinitely greater.

“Alright,” Ryan said slowly, his eyes narrowing. “Sure. For five hundred dollars, I’ll play.”

By this point Michael knew Gavin well enough to tell he was up to something. He eyed his friend suspiciously as Gavin’s grin widened.

“I’ll start gentle,” he said. “The constant leather wearing is some sort of weird fetish, right?”

“Of course,” Ryan replied, without missing a beat. He adjusted said leather jacket and then said - something quick and vicious in it - “The only reason Geoff let you into the crew is because sometimes we need eye candy to distract people on deals.”

“Oh my God,” Michael said, a little startled by how immediately brutal Ryan had been. Even Gavin seemed a bit taken aback, but after a moment he laughed.

“Of course,” he said, and tilted his head. “Awww, are you saying I’m pretty, Ryan?”

“Of course,” Ryan replied, and Gavin let out an annoyed sound.

“Damn it, that wasn’t meant to be my turn.”

“Too bad,” Ryan said smugly. “Your hair’s not naturally blond.”

Gavin looked pained - he’d always adamantly denied that he’d been bleaching, as though they’d somehow all fucking fail to notice that he’d gotten several shades blonder over the last couple of years. Still, he didn’t miss a beat.

“Of course,” he replied, and then got that wicked grin again. Michael sat up a bit straighter, waiting.

“I’m right about the coin toss argument, aren’t I?” he asked, and the sudden, frozen silence in the car was _hysterical_.

Michael burst out laughing just at the fucking expression on Ryan’s face. A mixture of irritation, shock and above all the most _unimpressed_ look Michael had ever seen. The mere mention of the coin argument was enough to get him going, Michael knew. And even as part of this stupid game, the prospect of admitting to Gavin that he was right - it was unthinkable.

“Check and fucking mate,” Michael said - Gavin was grinning at Ryan now.

“Come on, Ryan! I’m right, aren’t I? It’s not a fifty-fifty chance.”

Ryan’s jaw was clenched so tightly that Michael could practically see the ligaments bulging in his neck. There was a long moment of silence broken only by Gavin’s stifled giggles.

“I fucking hate you,” Ryan said finally, and Gavin let out a loud whoop.

“That’s five hundred dollars you owe me, Ryan! I beat you.”

“Nice, boi,” Michael said, and leaned into the back seat to high five him. Gavin grinned back at him, and Michael couldn’t help but shake his head fondly.

It was a stupid game, but he’d grant Gavin that it was amusing. He doubted anything else would come of it - and a second later, another car pulled up in front of the house and they all snapped back to attention, minds on the job.

 

* * *

 

Honestly, Michael thought that would be it. Just a one-off, silly thing Gavin did when he was bored in the car.

Except at some point, the game spread without him noticing - mostly because Gavin liked bets far too much and he always put money on himself winning.

He first realised that the challenge was still going when he walked in on Gavin playing it with Geoff while they were waiting in the board room for the others to show up for a meeting.

“You know everyone thinks you looked better before you grew that stupid moustache,” Gavin was saying cheerfully.

Geoff grimaced and reached up, touching the end of said moustache.

“Of course,” he replied. There was a stack of money sitting on the table between them, Michael noticed, and rolled his eyes as he sat down. Geoff glanced over at him and suddenly grinned.

“So were you being serious, the other week, when you came over for drinks at my house and you said-”

“ _Stop_ ,” Gavin snapped, in a sudden panic, looking over at Michael. “Don’t bring that up. You win, alright?”

“Ha!” Geoff cried, sweeping the money towards him - Michael glanced between them, confused, because Gavin had gone red and wasn’t looking at him and he suddenly wondered just what it was Gavin didn’t want Geoff to say in front of him.

“He have a trump card on you, Gavvy?” he asked, and Gavin just glanced up at him before looking away again.

“Apparently,” he muttered, and Michael raised his eyebrows.

There were few things that Gavin didn’t tell him. They’d been close since he joined the crew and, not gonna lie, it stung a little that there was something Gavin would tell Geoff but so desperately didn’t want _him_ to know. He tried to shrug it off, turning back to Geoff.

“I see Gav’s roped you into his dumb game."

“Yeah,” Geoff said, and gave one of his lazy grins. “I dunno. It’s pretty fun. I think you can learn a lot about a person from it.”

Michael just hummed. Gavin was muttering something about going to tell the others to hurry up, and he left the room in a tizzy. There was something too sharp about the way Geoff watched him leave, and something even more confusing in how he looked over at _Michael_ afterwards, speculatively.

Still.

The game. The stupid game. Now that money was involved it was a go-to thing for Gavin, who kept setting up matches. Stone-faced Ray who’d agree to anything in a deadpan voice going up against Ryan with his cutting insults. Jack and Geoff, who’d known each other the longest, being set against each other. If someone from Burnie’s syndicate came to the base, Gavin would immediately pounce on them and drag them into a game.

Michael couldn’t deny that it was amusing. There was something morbidly delightful about watching people dig up each other’s secrets, try to embarrass each other, or simply express their unwanted opinions without having to worry about being rude. As long as it was part of the game, it was all in good fun. No one got seriously offended.

(He was also making a lot of money by placing bets on it, so. There was that too).

He played his own first match against Gavin, and won it easily (“If you were trapped in your house in the zombie apocalypse and ran out of food, you’d eat your cat, wouldn’t you?” “ _Michael_ , that’s horrible, I don’t even want to think about it.”).

Since then, he’d become one of the reigning champions, because honestly? He still didn’t quite _get_ how the others kept losing.

“It’s stupid!” he’d roar, over the others’ cheers as he collected his money. “You just fucking say _of course,_ it doesn’t matter if it’s true or not. I know you wouldn’t eat your damn cat, just say it to _win the game_.”

“But I _can’t,_ Michael, it’s too horrible,” Gavin would insist, as he rolled his eyes. “I have a heart, unlike you.”

Maybe Michael was heartless. Or just, y’know, completely devoid of shame because to him it was very, very easy to just answer _of course_ to whatever the others threw at him, without hesitation.

“You’ve munked off while watching those weird Japanese tentacle cartoons before, haven’t you?”

“Of course. It’s called _hentai_ you virgin.”

And in the next round:

“Next time you went down the fish shop you must’ve been turned on to see an octopus, then, right?”

“Of course.”

“Bloody _hell_ , Michael.”

“What? It’s not _true_ , it’s just to win the game. Seriously.”

It seemed quite clear to him. He didn’t care; no matter what Gavin or any of the others said - it didn’t matter. He’d admit to anything, they all knew it was just part of the game.

It wasn’t true.

 

* * *

 

It was Barbara, ultimately, who showed him the _true_ joy of the game. He’d been viewing it all wrong, he realised.

Burnie’s people-person had come by the base to run over some possible new mercs for them to hire. This of course meant that she was now just hanging around wasting time with Gavin in his office and, when Michael came by to ask Gavin for something, he realised that _of course_ Gavin had asked her to play the game.

Except, this time, something was different.

When he first joined the crew and met all Burnie’s people, he’d actually thought Barbara and Gavin were flirting with each other. He quickly realised they weren’t, of course, just that they were both utterly shameless about prying into each other’s sex and dating lives.

“You’ve beaten your eleven-times-in-one-day wank session since we last spoke, right?” Gavin was asking.

Barbara’s face was already red and she was laughing so much that it was hard to get words out.

“Of course,” she replied - that was when Michael realised what they were doing, and rolled his eyes as he came and sat down on the edge of Gavin’s desk, the other man glancing up at him and giving a nod of greeting.

“And you,” Barbara continued, poking Gavin’s arm to get his attention back. “You ended up going home with that guy whose number I gave you, right?”

Gavin’s reaction was immediate; his face went red and he ducked his head, especially when Barbara started giggling.

“Of course,” he replied, but it was shaky and so strained that it was quite obvious he was _trying_ to make it sound nonchalant, and failing miserably.

Barbara, by this point, was slapping him on the arm repeatedly.

“So you did!” she cried.

“No,” Gavin said, unconvincingly.

“Yes you did. Look at you, you’re squirming in your seat! Oh my God, you liar, you said you threw it away.”

Michael was watching them, bemused, and Gavin remained very carefully turned away from him.

“It’s my turn,” he said hurriedly, and then - something a bit vicious in it - “You have a secret boyfriend, don’t you?”

Barbara’s reaction was immediate, even if she tried to hide it. It took her a moment too long to answer, and when she did, it sounded nervous.

“Of course,” she said.

“ _Ha_ ,” Gavin yelled, “So Burnie was right!”

“No he wasn’t,” Barbara cried, “I was just playing the game. What about you, are you still dating that guy then? Did you meet up for a round two?”

“Of course,” Gavin replied, but he said it so easily compared to the last time that it was obviously a lie.

“So it was just a one off then,” Barbara said, and dramatically tapped her chin. “Hmmmm.”

“Your secret boyfriend is someone who works with us, isn’t it?” Gavin cut in quickly.

Again, the same reaction from her - a flustered, sheepish embarrassment, a blush rising high on her cheeks and a grin that she couldn’t quite suppress. She didn’t answer, taking so long that Gavin pumped a fist in the air.

“Ha! I win. And also, I _knew it_. Who is it, then? It’s not Blaine is it? Please tell me it’s not Blaine.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Barbara said, even as she took her wallet out and handed him a fifty. She glanced at Michael, who just raised his eyebrows - he didn’t spend as much time around Burnie’s people as Gavin did, so this workplace drama didn’t concern him much - “It’s none of your business, you asshole.”

“Barbara’s got a secret boyfriend,” Gavin chanted excitedy. “Michael, she’s dating someone on the sly!”

“ _Gavin_ ,” she chided, though she was laughing. “You watch out. Don’t you remember why I gave you that guy’s number in the first place?”

“What guy?” Michael demanded, and the reaction from Gavin was immediate; Michael saw his ears go red as he brought his hands up to his chest defensively the way he did when he thought Ryan was gonna throw something at him, or Geoff was about to try and tackle him to the ground.

“There was no guy,” he said quickly. “Shut up, Barbara. I’m gonna find out your secret boyfriend.”

“I’m gonna find out your secret crush,” she shot back.

“ _Secret crush_ ,” Michael yelled, delighted. In the time he’d known Gavin he’d never shown proper interest in anyone.

“Shut up, Barbara,” Gavin snapped, sounding genuinely annoyed now. “You’re both horrid, and I’m leaving, and don’t you _dare_ tell him anything about that guy.” He jabbed a finger at Barbara, who stuck her tongue out at him as he left the room a little too fast, the door slamming shut behind him.

Michael could only sit there with his eyebrows raised.

“What the fuck was that all about?” he demanded.

Barbara just shrugged, though she was grinning widely. Michael knew he wouldn’t get any details out of her - she liked to tease Gavin, but she was loyal and knew how to keep her mouth shut.

Still. He was very bemused by this whole business. _Probably what Geoff was talking about before_ , he realised. And then, more interestingly, he realised exactly why Gavin hadn’t told _him_ about it.

Since he joined the crew Michael had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t approve of mixing business with pleasure. And to be honest, all this talk of _crushes_ and _secret boyfriends_ was making it sound like they were in an episode of Glee, not part of the biggest crime syndicate in the city. And he knew - he’d seen, in his three years here - that although Burnie was one of the friendliest, most easygoing bosses he’d ever met (Geoff too), they were actually really damn professional under it all. It might feel like fun and games, but they knew what they were about.

But he still thought it was a bad idea to start dating people in your actual damn crew. Relationship drama tended to get very complicated very quickly when guns, bombs and the police were part of the everyday mix. He’d seen that first hand back with his old crew in New Jersey, and had the scars to prove it.

It was why, when he first joined, he’d even tried not to really be _friends_ with any of the others, attempting to keep everything professional. That went out the fucking window pretty fast because _professional_ and _Geoff Ramsey_ went together like the opposing ends of magnets (that was to say, they _didn’t_ ) and without even knowing it he’d been drawn into getting close to the others. They joked around. They trusted each other.

But maybe they weren’t _close_ , he realised suddenly, him and Gavin, him and any of the others - not the way Geoff and Gavin were. The way Geoff and Gavin _let themselves_ be. Maybe that’s why Gavin wouldn’t want to tell him if he did develop an interest in someone. He’d probably think Michael would laugh at him, or not want to hear that sort of sappy thing.

He gave Barbara another questioning look, but as he’d expected, she just shrugged and leaned back in her chair.

“I don’t know if I like this game,” was all she said, though she sounded very amused. “It could be pretty dangerous if you had something to hide.”

That was when Michael realised.

It wasn’t about just saying _of course_ to everything. It wasn’t about the embarrassment of being forced to admit _yes_ to something that wasn’t true. Oh no. The real horror lay in being asked something that _was_ true - in having to hide your reaction to people guessing at your secrets.

And the big fun, of course, was looking at the reactions of people to see exactly what _was_ true. Oh, he’d been playing this _all_ wrong.

_Well, well, well_ , he thought, and in a true Ryan-esque moment, had to refrain from cackling evilly. _What possibilities this opens._

 

* * *

 

The thing was, Gavin was entirely too easy to rile up.

He liked to ask a lot of personal, frequently embarrassing questions of other people. But he didn’t like to answer them _himself_. As much as he loved Gavin, that hypocrisy was one of the things that tended to irritate Michael into a rage.

But with this game of his, Gavin had inadvertently presented Michael with the best possible opportunity to make him _squirm_.

He didn’t act on this at first.

He waited, watching Gavin play against the others. Honestly, unless he had a foolproof winning question like the one he’d used against Ryan, Gavin lost nearly all the time. And Michael quickly began taking note of the sorts of questions that he wouldn’t answer.

Anything to do with sex, or weird things in the bedroom, would make him all flustered and he’d end the game to stop further prying.

People mentioning him leaving the crew or going back to England would have him refusing to agree, even if it meant losing.

And nothing, _nothing_ made him more uneasy, for some reason, than people bringing up how much money he had, how much he’d earned working as a thief back in England before he came over here (considering the amount of gold jewellery, designer shirts and fancy motorbikes Gavin burned through, Michael was always left wondering exactly how much more he had saved up than the rest of them).

These, of course, were all things that _Gavin_ would shamelessly ask people, but he immediately opted out of the game if they were turned back on him, no matter how much money he’d lose in a bet.

They were out at a bar a few weeks later when the opportunity finally arose. Geoff was there too, but he had wandered off some time ago (Michael was pretty sure he was off trying to start a fight but it had been a long day and he was determined not to get involved) and it left the two of them sitting alone at a booth.

They both had a few drinks in them already and it was Gavin who insisted on playing the game.

“Aren’t you getting tired of it by now?” Michael asked, trying to hide his grin.

“Of course not. It’s an excuse to insult people and be nosy,” Gavin informed him. “I will _never_ get tired of it. Also, I’ve made so much money.”

“And lost even more.”

“Hey, I’m offering you the chance to win a hundred bucks here,” Gavin pointed out, and took another swig of his beer. “I bet I can beat you, come on, Michael. Michael boi. Lovely Michael. Remember that time you straightened your hair? I really want to insult the time you straightened your hair again.”

He had that thick, slightly lispy voice going on that Michael knew meant he was really pushing the limit of how many drinks were too many. And he himself had a happy little buzz going on. Gavin was grinning at him with his eyes all shiny and when they got in this sort of mood they usually got the urge to start play-fighting. Usually that took the form of wrestling or dunking each other in the pool.

Today it would be through the dreaded _Of Course_ game.

“Sure,” Michael said.

“Yay!” Gavin cried. Oh, poor child. He had no idea what he was in for. Michael realised this immediately when Gavin started the game because he was obviously just here to have fun and even if he knew Michael isn’t fazed by his usual teasing questions, he asked them anyway. A hundred dollars on the line and he was barely playing to win.

“Michael, you still like My Little Pony, right, Michael?”

“Of course,” Michael replied immediately, shaking his head. Too easy. The My Little Pony thing was something he should never have mentioned with Gavin in earshot, but it was a long time ago and fuck it, he wasn’t ashamed.

He _was_ immediately on the attack.

“So Barbara said you were interested in someone,” he said, and saw Gavin get fifty percent more sober in an instant. In his own drunken state, that was _very_ amusing. “That true, is it?”

Gavin was grinning so hard Michael thought he might strain something. It was the sort of awkward-grin people did when they were trying not to look suspicious.

“Of course,” he said, but it came out faltering and strained. And a second later, a bit annoyed, “Michael, what are you asking about that for?”

Michael just shrugged.

“A hundred bucks on the line, I’ll do whatever I have to.”

At the mention of the money, Gavin’s eyes flashed.

“Well,” he said, “I bet you’ve thought about shagging someone in the crew before.”

“Of course,” Michael replied easily, and gave no other response, assuming it was just one of Gavin’s usual attempts to rile him up. But for some reason, his calmness seemed to almost piss Gavin off; he pressed his lips together as though he was annoyed that Michael _hadn’t_ , apparently, been thinking about fucking one of them.

But it was Michael’s turn now.

“It’s someone who works with us, isn’t it?” he pressed, quite unable to hide his grin now.

Gavin couldn’t control his own reaction; his face contorted very strangely.

“Of course,” he said, but it wavered a little. He shifted in his seat, picking up his drink to take another long swig, and Michael could see him kicking himself, irritated by his own lack of a poker face. Oh, this was much better than dunking him in the pool, especially after having watched him terrorise poor Caleb with this game earlier today. _But you agree that ultimate frisbee isn’t an_ actual _sport, right?_

“Awww, Gavvy,” he said. “A workplace crush. That’s so _cute_.”

“Shut up, you pleb,” Gavin said. “You’re being really mean.”

“Point of the game, boi,” Michael said wickedly, and Gavin’s eyes narrowed.

“You claim _you’ve_ never fallen for a coworker,” he declared. “But I bet you have before, haven’t you?”

Okay, now it was Michael’s turn to suddenly feel way too sober. His mouth went dry; his hands felt clumsy as he fumbled to pick up his beer bottle.

There were… incidents, with his previous crew. Incidents that ended badly, that lost him people he thought were friends, that made everything far too complicated and himself determined not to let that happen again.

Gavin didn’t know about that, of course. He was just trying to get a rise out of him.

It was working. Which pissed him off.

“Of course,” Michael said. It came out tightly but before Gavin could realise, Michael was taking his own turn. “So someone who works with us, huh? If it’s someone who goes out in the field I bet you must get all hot and bothered when you see them gearing up.”

He had Ryan on the mind, for some reason; if it was someone who he knew well enough for Gavin to not want to tell him, it was probably one of their main crew, and the way they acted around each other was so reminiscent of pulling pigtails that he could easily see Gavin having fallen for him. It was strange, to think of the two of them together - but right now he was more interested in watching Gavin shift uncomfortably.

“Isn’t that right, Gav?” he pressed. “When you see them get their gear on - that leather jacket-” _That_ made Gavin tense for some reason. So he’d got a detail right. It must be Ryan. “Right before we all go out on the job when the blood’s racing, the adrenaline’s pumping - bet you can’t fucking sit still when you see them get on a bike-”

“Michael…” Gavin sounded pained. His fists were clenched where they rested on the table and there was an odd look on his face. Michael assumed he was embarrassed but Gavin wasn’t _saying_ anything, jaw working silently like he was trying to compose himself, so when he did answer it’d come out smoothly. Too late, he’d already given Michael more than enough of a reaction.

“Tick tock,” Michael said, glancing at his watch, and Gavin jerked like he was waking up.

“Of course,” he said quickly, almost an afterthought. Like he’d forgotten they were even playing the game.

Michael laughed. He was just teasing, still; Gavin’s face was red and he was so flustered by now that it was ridiculous. It’d be cute if Michael didn’t disapprove so much. _Ryan? Really?_ He liked the other man but they worked together so often - and _argued_ so often - that if things went wrong it would really fuck over the entire crew. Gavin and Ryan made a great team but once you got proper _feelings_ involved you could never tell how things would change.

Gavin scowled and swatted at him.

“You’d break your rule about falling for a coworker if you met someone in RT or Fake that you really liked, right?” he asked, and Michael snorted.

“Of course,” he said without thinking about it, and Gavin blinked.

“Really?” he asked.

“No! God no,” Michael said, and snorted again.

“Wait, _really_? Even if you met someone here?” Gavin insisted, and Michael couldn’t help but feel suddenly almost uncomfortable. He did not get into this game to get _his_ personal issues dug up.

“Really,” he replied flatly - _end of fucking story_ \- “This isn’t part of the game. It’s my turn.” And then, perhaps a bit cruelly, “You’ve rubbed one out thinking about them by now, haven’t you.”

“ _Michael_ ,” Gavin cried indignantly. It was the sort of stupid question that wouldn’t faze anyone else in RT but that Gavin took personal objection to.

It was also the point where he’d usually refuse to answer and end the game, but apparently he was really determined to ask his next round, because he replied, remarkably calmly, “Of course.”

Michael raised his eyebrows at the other man’s sudden confidence, but any amusement he was feeling faded a second later because apparently, Gavin was cleverer than he’d realised.

“It must be lonely,” he said - voice suddenly softer now, like this wasn’t a play at all. “Not to want to date anyone in our crew when those are the only people who it _is_ safe to end up with? Since you wouldn’t want to drag a civilian into this shit and we can’t trust anyone who _isn’t_ with us, so… I don’t know. Doesn’t it ever get hard to think that you might end up alone?”

Michael’s stomach had plummeted. He stared at Gavin - those wide green eyes, too sincere now - suddenly tongue tied.

_Lonely_.

He wasn’t fucking lonely. He _wasn’t_ , but to say _of course_ would be admitting too much because he’d already taken too long, now, and had no idea what Gavin was reading into this face. He had to know that the question had hit some sore spot.

For the first time, Michael faltered, unsure what to do. Just sort of sat there staring until finally he took so long that Gavin held out a hand.

“Fuck,” Michael muttered, and pulled out his wallet, grudgingly dishing over a hundred dollars. A churning mixture of annoyance and embarrassment were simmering up in him now, and he snatched his hand back as soon as Gavin had the notes.

“Michael,” Gavin began, but Michael didn’t like the sudden seriousness in his voice.

“You’ll lose that a second later when you play this dumb game with someone else,” he snapped, and shoved his chair back, getting up. “I need another drink.”

 

* * *

 

_Little shit,_ was all Michael could think, as he sat, fuming, at the bar. And then, _fuck, Barbara’s right. This could be dangerous._

See, Michael’s feelings about Gavin had always been bright, flaring things. Annoyance when they first met, that quickly turned into _fondness_ \- Gavin was one of the funniest people he’d ever encountered and they got along ridiculously well-

(And when they were around each other, maybe he sort of forgot about everyone else a little bit, too absorbed in the fun they were having together, how Gavin could make him grin until his face hurt, the swelling affection he had for the other man, how much he liked spending time with him-)

But when Gavin managed to hit a spot that pissed him off, he _really fucking pissed him off_. It wouldn’t last, Michael knew - he couldn’t hold a grudge, not against Gavin. By tomorrow they’d be goofing off around each other again.

But for now, he was feeling pretty damn salty about all this.

_I’m not fucking lonely,_ he thought again, and tried not to register how much it sounded like he was just denying it. _Stupid Gavin. He was just trying to get out of that conversation_.

Speaking of. Who could Gavin’s mysterious love interest be?

It occurred to Michael that Gavin had never specified if it was someone in the FAHC or just someone in their syndicate in general. There were a lot of people Burnie worked with who Gavin spent quite a bit of time with.

If it was someone from Fake, it _had_ to be Ryan. He didn’t think Gavin would go for Ray, and if he’d told Geoff about it then it couldn’t be him. Jack never wore leather and the only fieldwork he did was as their getaway driver or pilot.

Which left Ryan, and Michael himself, a thought which made him snort. No fucking way.

Except now, of course, there was that worming _what-if_. But he shoved it away. There was no way that Gavin could be interested in him. And God, he _hoped_ he wasn’t because he’d have to turn him down, wouldn’t he, and things would be awkward because he _knew_ how Gavin got about rejection. No way.

Better if it was Ryan.

Better if it was _no one_.

 

* * *

 

By the next morning they’d slept off the drink and things returned to normal. They stopped playing the game as much, mostly because everyone was getting bored of it at this point and with a big heist coming up, they had actual work to focus on, so Geoff was whipping everyone into shape at every possible opportunity.

Gavin was the only person who continued to bring it up, but now that fewer people were into it, he tended to just start games when he particularly wanted to annoy somebody-

Or, as Michael noticed over the next few weeks, as a way to get affection.

It was a new trick that it took him a little while to notice. But Gavin would start games without putting money on them, which meant that people didn’t play seriously, and it was more banter than anything. And there was a particular pattern that Michael started to notice; after a few throwaway questions Gavin would go fishing for… not praise, but the sort of sentiment that a gang of six criminals didn’t normally show so easily.

“I’m your favourite, aren’t I Geoff?” he’d ask, when stuck in traffic on the way to do heist prep, Michael in the backseat watching the two of them play the stupid game.

“Of course.”

“Awww, Geoff, that’s so sweet of you.”

“My favourite to mess with,” Geoff added immediately, reaching out and trying to stick a finger up Gavin’s nose, for some inexplicable reason.

It wasn’t just Geoff.

“Jack, you miss me when I go back to England, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Ray, your hits are more fun when I come along.”

A sigh, but a wearily fond one. “Of course, Gav.”

“Ryan, you’d stab a guy for me, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, of _course_ , Gavin.” That one sounding _far_ too sincere. “Just give me a name.”

No one commented on it. If Michael had his issues with not wanting to get too close to people, Gavin had his own with always wanting reassurance, despite taking their constant teasing like a champ. At first Michael felt a bit bad, watching him going around very un-subtly fishing for affection from everyone. It was kind of sad to watch. And then kind of sweet.

And then kind of _mysterious_ when he realised, one day, that Gavin never came to _him_.

They hadn’t played the game together since that night in the bar, but they hadn’t spoken of it since and were on good terms with each other so it couldn’t be that. And it couldn’t be that Gavin was already _certain_ of their friendship, because he had to know that _Geoff_ loved him and he was still going and badgering _of course’s_ out of _him._

And Gavin had never been shy, in the past, about coming up to Michael and demanding hugs or declarations of boi-ship, and no matter how Michael felt about complicating workplace relationships he’d never hesitated because it was _Gavin_ , it felt _different_ , somehow, here in the FAHC where everyone was fiercely loyal to each other.

Except now his curiosity had him keeping a closer eye on Gavin, and he noticed, over the next few days, that even that had stopped too. In fact, he’d go so far as to say that Gavin had been avoiding him, except he _hadn’t_ \- they talked and joked as much as ever, they constantly texted, Gavin would arrange for them to hang out and play games when the had a spare moment - if Gavin was avoiding him, it was only for those other, extra little things. The love he was fishing for from everyone else.

It was not hard to figure out.

Michael wasn’t stupid. The possibility hit him as soon as he realised what was going on.

_That fucking secret crush - it couldn’t be_ me _, could it? Oh my God._

Now that he’d had the thought he couldn’t get rid of it - because if he was honest, he’d been watching Ryan and Gavin quite a lot over the last few days as well. Out of _curiosity_ , he told himself - but honestly, although they teased each other a lot, he wasn’t really seeing it. Ryan treated Gavin more as a younger brother, and Gavin still constantly complained about Ryan being weird, or scary - and not in a way that made Michael think he might be covering up deeper feelings.

So if it wasn’t Ryan- that didn’t leave many people. And if it _was_ him - things were coming together now.

Why Gavin hadn’t wanted Geoff to mention things in front of Michael.

Why he didn’t want Barbara to tell him about the guy he’d gone home with (and Michael had gotten the story out of Arryn later on, because he was a nosy bastard; Barbara had been trying to get Gavin _over_ his crush, apparently, and no one knew who it was except that Gavin was supposedly super hung up on him but wouldn’t make a move, and apparently in Barbara’s mind trying to set him up with randoms was a viable solution [which hadn’t worked, because Gavin was supposedly _deeply in love_ with whoever the fuck it was])-

Michael. Michael might be whoever the fuck it was.

It explained why Gavin had never so much as _hinted_ that he was interested in someone in front of him - and even his reactions during the game they’d played together. His disappointment at Michael brushing off all his questions about wanting to date someone in the crew, how uncomfortable he’d gotten when _Michael_ started to ask about his crush-

(Oh God. _He_ wore a leather jacket!)

If you put the pieces together… _pretty fucking elementary, my dear Jones._

_It’s you._

_It’s fucking_ you.

Oh shit. What was he meant to _do_?

_Let him down_ , was the first and most obvious solution, but he didn’t know why the thought left a suddenly bitter taste in his mouth.

Maybe his first reaction should have been horror at how awkward it’d make things with the guy who was pretty much his _best friend_ , if things went sour between them.

But somehow - somehow he wasn’t upset about it, or even worried. Somehow, it was a different reaction - a funny sort of thrill.

Because he was seeing _possibilities_ now. Dreaded possibilities.

He liked Gavin. Of course he did. And he knew that Gavin really, really liked him - the other man was constantly talking to him, smiling at him, texting him, as well as being physically affectionate. He’d lean against Michael in the car, sling an arm around him, climb onto his back, hug him or rest his head on his shoulder. And Michael wasn’t that tactile, he wasn’t normally into all that, but with Gavin it was - easier.

Easier to let go and _let himself_.

With this revelation in mind, suddenly he was thinking about it too much. _Way_ too much. About what it might be like to touch the other man with a different sort of gentleness - wake up with that smile next to him - to look at him and know that they were properly _together_ , that that was _his_ amongst all the chaos of their work.

_If he does like you…_

Part of him was appalled at himself. _Why are you even considering this?_

_You know how it ends._

_You get too close, and when things get messy you’re not only out of a friend, you’re out of a fucking job, and possibly your_ life _if things get as violent as they did last time._

But at the same time - it didn’t seem _possible_ that things would go wrong. After all, it was _Gavin_. They were already so close - and it was Gavin, it was _different_ , somehow, he could feel it.

Anyway.

He wasn’t _certain_ , after all - just 99% sure - and in any case, Gavin would never make a move on him, Michael knew it. He was already shy at the best of times and how close they were as friends would make him too wary of fucking things up. Michael had time to think about it. No need to jump to conclusions and rush into anything.

And if he found himself smiling at Gavin more when he looked over at him - if he found himself paying more attention to him, to the bubbling joy he always felt when the other man was around, to Gavin’s voice over the comm, his squeaky laugh and indignant cries and the way his voice wrapped around Michael’s name, _Mi_ -chael, Mi- _chael_ -

Well, he was just figuring things out, trying to parse out how _he_ felt about Gavin and confirm how Gavin felt about _him_. It didn’t mean he was going to act on it.

There was nothing wrong with that.

 

* * *

 

This growing almost-excitement about how Gavin might feel about him - how _he_ might feel about _Gavin_ \- was cut brutally short only a few days later.

Michael was not in the habit of eavesdropping. It was sneaky, it made you seem untrustworthy, and it only caused complications later on. Not to mention how eavesdroppers, as they say, seldom hear good of themselves.

But when he heard his name being mentioned inside Gavin’s office while he was passing by, he couldn’t help but freeze, and then sneak closer and pause to listen, his suspicions about Gavin’s feelings towards him having made him too curious to resist.

“You really are in love with Michael, aren’t you?”

It was Jeremy’s voice, which surprised Michael. He hadn’t expected the other man to be talking about him - he wasn’t one to gossip. Then again, he had been moving up and doing more in the crew for a while now and he was starting to spend a lot more time with them.

There was a frozen pause after that rather sensitive question, and even Michael found himself suddenly holding his breath, waiting for Gavin’s reply.

When it came, it was snappish and tight.

“Are you _actually_ twelve years old? That joke got stale five years ago.”

“So it should be a simple ‘of course’ then,” Jeremy shot back, and Michael groaned, squeezing his eyes shot. _This fucking_ game _, it’ll be the death of us. Why the fuck is he still going around playing it?_ “Also, you’ve only known Michael for three years.”

There was a long silence.

“Wait, really?” Jeremy asked, suddenly surprised. “You’re gonna lose three hundred dollars on this. You really won’t just say that you’re in love with him?”

“Take the bloody money,” Gavin grumbled, and Michael bit his lip, a sudden horrible sinking feeling materialising in his stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Jeremy said immediately. “I didn’t realise it made you that uncomfortable.”

“It doesn’t,” Gavin replied. “Not like people don’t tell me all the fucking time. Oh, Michael and Gavin are in love. Oh, they’re touching tips. Oh, were you two off shagging each other?”

It was true.

The immediate connection between them when they met had had the boyfriend jokes going very quickly. They had died down over the years but they still got brought up now and then, when the others felt like teasing. And despite all his reservations about getting close to people, Michael had never _minded_ them. They were all in good fun and he knew how close he was to Gavin would look strange to anyone in their business.

But there was something so bitter in Gavin’s voice now that it suddenly gave him pause, something like dread sinking into his stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Jeremy said again, sounding a bit flustered.

“Why are you sorry?” Gavin said, and Michael heard him let out a long breath. “You didn’t do anything. I mean it, Little J, it’s all good.”

“You want the three hundred dollars back? I don’t mind.”

“No, you keep it. I’ll talk to you later, I have some stuff to get to.”

There was the scrape of a chair being pushed back and Michael quickly hurried off down the hall. He got around the corner and paused, taking stock of himself. Realised that his chest felt tight, his fists were clenched, his heart was pounding furiously.

He hadn’t seen Gavin’s face, of course. It was always hard to tell just from a voice. But back there, when Jeremy asked him - Gavin hadn’t sounded flustered, or embarrassed, the way he had when Michael and Barbara quizzed him. He’d just sounded bitter, and angry, and fed up.

And the thing was - Michael had heard him admit to all sorts of other things in matches of the _Of Course_ game.

_You’d suck Michael off for a hundred bucks, yeah?_

_Of course!_

_Did you and Michael kiss last New Year’s when you were out on the balcony together?_

_Oh, of course_. With a wink in Michael’s direction.

(And the thing was, they _didn’t_ , but Michael _does_ have memories of that night. Sitting out on the balcony looking down at Geoff’s swimming pool, the shimmering reflections of fireworks blooming in the water and Gavin’s head, resting on his shoulder, his hair damp from swimming, his skin cool, and Michael feeling for once that he _belonged_ after spending too many holidays alone in his flat. Looking at each other when the clock hit midnight and seeing the same fireworks blossoming in Gavin’s green eyes. His little smile. They didn’t kiss but Gavin did press his face into Michael’s shoulder, put an arm around his waist, Michael hugging him back before turning away to grab their beers-)

Point is, Gavin had no problem with admitting to those other things, secret crush or not.

So how come he wouldn’t answer _this_ question?

_You really are in love with Michael, aren’t you?_

Perhaps _that_ was the one that went too far.

Perhaps he’d misjudged this - read into things all wrong. Because sex jokes were fine, Ray would claim to be happy to suck off anyone in the crew just to win a match, Geoff too, the things Ryan had admitted to win these games were simply _depraved-_

But _love jokes_ \- maybe those were something else.

_Stupid_ , Michael thought then, furiously. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

Stupid for jumping to conclusions.

Stupid for feeling _hurt_ now - oh, fool - what, did you get your _fucking hopes up? Idiot_ , he thought, and kicked himself, _what a fucking idiot!_

But he couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop the fact that he _did_ feel hurt, that he did feel like he’d lost something because, _okay, fine, I guess you don’t like me after all then, Gavin._

_No big deal_.

He swallowed hard, trying to bury the crushing _disappointment_ that he felt (and you shouldn’t, you _shouldn’t_ , did you even really _want_ this?).

Who cared?

Who cared, this solved all his problems. Now he wouldn’t have to turn Gavin down, now things wouldn’t be awkward, now he didn’t have to worry about what _he_ was going to do.

But still - no matter how much he tried to deny it, he couldn’t get rid of the fact that he _did_ feel put out. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt like something he was looking forward to had been cancelled. Like, he hadn’t felt this gutted since Season 2 of Firefly never happened. It was that bad.

Still. He gave himself a mental slap, disgusted and angry at _himself_ for this.

_That’s why you don’t fucking_ do _this. Get so close. Start thinking about getting together with coworkers. Mix up relationships with business, get_ friendships _all tangled up in your dating life. Jesus Christ, lesson learned._

_I don’t care_ , he thought, finally, rather sourly as he took a deep breath and pushed off the wall, continuing on his way. _I’m over it already_.

 

* * *

 

Things weren’t fine, even if he wanted them to be.

They had a heist the next day and it went horribly. Michael was in a foul mood from the beginning and it put everyone off; he was snappish, off his game, and particularly angry at Gavin, even if he tried not to be. Everything the other man did seemed to annoy him. His chatter over the comms, the stupid ginger cat mask he was wearing - even how he had grinned at Michael when they were preparing back at the base, as though everything was just peachy!

It was infuriating.

It meant that Michael kept snapping at him - “God Gavin, why aren’t you in position yet? Fucking idiot.” “Hurry the _fuck up we’re all waiting_!” “Oh my _God,_ you’re so stupid, why did you shoot him _he wasn’t finished opening the safe yet_!”

It had Gavin nervous and antsy, Geoff annoyed, and everyone else on-edge. It distracted Ray enough that he didn’t notice the bank teller going for the emergency help button, and Michael was so off his game that when the police came he got mad and started firing back at them instead of escaping with all the others, which meant _Ryan_ had to come back in and get him, which meant Jack had to pause longer in the escape vehicle to wait for them, giving the cops the chance to surround it.

Gavin panicked at that point and decided it’d be a fantastic idea to throw a grenade at a nearby fire hydrant, which meant that now everyone was not only stressed but _soaking wet_ and caused the _fire department_ to show up and only block the street worse.

Basically, it was a fucking shambles.

They scraped out of it, as they always did, and headed back to the base exhausted and sore. Michael was fuming silently and _Gavin_ was pissed off now, too - he’d ruined everything, Michael thought darkly, by dithering around at the start and causing them to take longer to get the money.

Geoff, of course, had picked up on the tension between the two of them.

“Ray,” he ordered, as soon as they got inside. “Get yourself to Caleb.”

He had sustained the only significant injury in the disaster, a graze across his arm where a bullet nicked him. Nothing too serious but it still had Michael fuming.

“Ryan, Jack, come with me to make sure the police are off our backs. As for you two,” he here shot Michael and Gavin a stern glare, “Get your shit together, I mean it.”

Michael scowled, but Geoff just pointed between the two of them before sweeping out of the room with the others, promptly leaving them alone.

“What the hell is your problem, Michael?” Gavin demanded, as soon as the door slammed shut behind them.

Michael stared angrily at him. Gavin looked irritated, more than Michael had seen him in a long time, but also mostly confused. There was a bruise around one eye, his shirt was ripped and spotted with grime and water, his hair a dishevelled mess (and not in the deliberate way that it usually was). Even now that sight of him so worn down made something in Michael ache, though he told himself it was just because of how _fucking annoying_ he was.

He himself was soaking wet, water constantly dripping from his hair into his eyes. He was cold, and bleeding from scrapes on his hands and knees where he’d stacked it on the wet road, and it came too easily to stir up the fire in his chest and start shouting.

“My problem?” he yelled back. “You want to know what my problem is? My problem is you nearly got us all _killed_ back there, you moron!”

Gavin sputtered angrily but didn’t appear to have a response to that. Somehow, despite everything that’d happened that day, he still seemed almost _surprised_ at Michael blaming him.

“It’s true,” Michael sneered. And then, pettily, because he was just so _sick_ of how downhill and confusing everything had gotten because of that fucking _game_ , “What, aren’t you gonna say _of course_?”

Gavin blinked a few times, startled. Then his eyes narrowed. Michael remained staring at him with his chin lifted defiantly. There was something like a challenge in what he’d said but honestly, he had no idea what he was doing, what he was hoping to get out of this except perhaps to _mock_ Gavin and bite back at him with the exact game he’d used to start all this trouble in the first place.

“Did you not get us all nearly killed back there?” Michael taunted again, and he saw Gavin’s jaw clench. The satisfaction he felt at the other man getting angry now too was like lighter fuel to the fire in his stomach; filling, warming.

“Of course,” Gavin hissed back, tightly. “And haven’t _you_ been full of vinegar all bloody day? Didn’t you put everyone else off by acting like such an asshole for no reason?”

“Of course,” Michael shot back immediately. He couldn’t deny that he’d been angry since this morning. Was even angrier now as he snapped, the words like punches, “You’re a useless fucking idiot and you ruin everything you touch.”

Gavin flinched and for a flicker of a second Michael felt bad - and hated that he did, that even now he just couldn’t cling to his own hurt over the other man’s.

But Gavin just tossed his head and nodded, recovering himself.

“Of course,” he said. “And _you’re_ an asshole who doesn’t care about anyone else, and your stupid rules and trust issues are only gonna push everyone else further away from you!”

The words were like a bucket of icy water thrown over his head. Michael couldn’t only stare at him, taken aback by how vicious he’d sounded, how thoroughly sincere. He was _hurt_ , suddenly, by the implications - and even more so, _scared_ by how closely they struck to his own fears. Fear of losing all this, the family and home he had here - of going back to being alone, friendless, too wary of anyone else to get close to them.

“And I really do mean that one,” Gavin added, and all Michael could do in defence was harden up and scowl at him again.

“Of course,” he replied, “I don’t see why _you’d_ care where I end up.”

That made Gavin’s glaring mask crack. He looked startled, and then concerned.

“What?” he asked, voice softer now. “That’s not true at all, Michael.”

He sounded so sincere, so worried, and God, Michael couldn’t _stand it_. Couldn’t take listening to Gavin sound like he cared so much, like he _wanted_ to be close to Michael, to protect him, even - all it did was twist the knife in deeper.

Suddenly his old instincts to pull back, to keep himself safe, returned full force.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said coldly. “You’re right, I don’t care about anyone else. Not even you. You’re just an annoying little prick and I don’t see why anyone should care what you think. If you weren’t useful to the crew none of us would bother with you anyway. I know I certainly wouldn’t.”

The words tasted poisonous even to him.

He was angry.

He was angry, and mostly trying to convince _himself_ that that was how he felt about Gavin. That it didn’t matter, didn’t matter, didn’t _matter_ if _Gavin_ didn’t want him. Who cared what Gavin thought, after all?

But Gavin looked so _hurt_ then. Those sad green eyes widening, his mouth dropping open a little. With his hair all wet and dripping and the bruise around his eye getting darker now, he looked terribly pitiful.

Hurt, then _angry_ , as he shook himself. He was shaking and Michael couldn’t tell if it was because he was cold in his wet clothes, or upset about what was going on, or just so mad that he couldn’t keep it in.

“Of course,” he spat, and turned on his heel and left the room.

Michael felt bad immediately. Bad and angry and _tired_ most of all, all the energy draining out of him as soon as Gavin left his sight.

God, he _hated_ this - complications and relationships getting tangled up. Affecting their heist, their _teamwork_ , their professional relationships - and hadn’t this lost him a friend, just how he’d lost friends last time?

It was all his fault.

His fault because, he realised now, _he_ was the one who went and got too close. Who ended up _wanting_ them to be together - and he did want it now, he could see it even in his own reaction, how bitter and hurt he’d been by Gavin’s inadvertent rejection - it was all on _him_ , and now he’d fucked it all up.

He didn’t hate Gavin, never could, but in the heat of the moment and his own pain he’d _wanted_ to hurt him and there was no way he could explain to Gavin without letting him know _everything_. How pathetic Michael was, his own weakness, how hypocritically after all his denouncing of work relationships and how silly and juvenile _love_ was in their world, he’d gone and fucking fallen for his best friend.

_God damn it_.

 

* * *

 

“Not what I meant by get your shit together,” Geoff said, wearily, and took a long sip of his beer.

Michael glanced up at him from where he was hunched over his own drink. Today had not been great. Everyone was sullen and disgruntled after yesterday’s failed heist, and it had quickly become apparent to everyone else that Michael and Gavin hadn’t made up but somehow gotten even _worse._ It meant that everyone kept to themselves all day, in foul moods that made the hours drag on and every mundane task seem a trial.

Geoff had asked Michael to come to the bar with him just as he was trying to slink off home. The offer was casual enough but there had been a hard edge to Geoff’s voice that indicated it was definitely an order, not a request, so Michael had had little choice.

And Gavin - Gavin hadn’t been amused to realise that Michael was coming along too. It seemed Geoff had asked him first only to spring this on him as a surprise, and Gavin’d seemed ready to walk out when Geoff slung an arm around his shoulders and dragged him off down the street towards the bar, Michael trailing along behind.

Even if he’d been made to come, Gavin escaped as soon as they arrived, muttering about going to get a drink but then sitting at the counter and not returning to the table. Michael was relieved more than anything as he followed Geoff’s gaze over to the back of Gavin’s head and sighed.

He hated this tension between them - hated how Gavin was obviously just as _upset_ as he was angry, that _he_ was the cause of it - but he hadn’t the first clue how to go about fixing it.

He turned back around to see Geoff watching him intently. The older man looked exhausted, and not just from the heist.

“You know,” Geoff said then, abruptly - the words almost _unsure_ , stiff like he wasn’t sure what he was saying but knew he _had_ to say it, somehow, “Even if you’re not interested in him… did you have to turn him down so harshly? Like, he told me some of the things you said to him and Jesus Christ, Michael, rejection of the century right there.”

It took a moment for what he’d said to register. When it did, Michael did a double take.

“Wait, _what_?”

“Is that not what happened?” Geoff asked, seeming suddenly alarmed by Michael’s surprise. “Oh shit, wait, did he not tell you?”

“Tell me _what_?” Michael asked, feeling a building dread.

“Fuck,” Geoff said, backpedalling as fast as possible, “Forget I said anything-”

“I’m the one Gavin’s secretly into,” Michael blurted out, and saw Geoff pull a face seemingly without thinking about it. “Shit, I _am_.”

“Look,” Geoff said defensively, “It wasn’t hard to work out, so it’s totally not my fault for accidentally revealing it to you.”

“You’re right,” Michael replied, except he felt a bit dazed, like this was still sinking in and he hadn’t quite registered it yet. “It wasn’t hard to work out, but I thought it was wrong because I heard him…”

He trailed off, unwilling to admit his eavesdropping, but Geoff was already raising his eyebrows.

“Heard him what?” he asked. “Adamantly denying it to someone? Come on, you know what Gavin's like. Shit at communicating. Can’t express his feelings to save his life. Lies _constantly_ , or tries to.”

Michael could only nod, still trying to wrap his head around this, suddenly re-evaluating everything, how this changed things.

“Wait,” Geoff said then, “So if it wasn’t you turning him down, what _was_ your fight about?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Michael replied, distractedly.

He’d assumed wrong, it seemed. It all came together now.

Gavin avoiding him the last few weeks, reacting that way to Jeremy… that had only happened after the game they’d played in the pub. When Michael had gotten close to figuring it out, and when he’d also basically insisted to Gavin that he didn’t like anyone in the crew and wouldn’t even consider dating one of them. The way Gavin had been acting - it had been him trying to get _over_ Michael. And why wouldn’t he, after what he’d said? He’d basically ripped all his hope that Michael might like him back to shreds.

_Idiot,_ he thought, and wasn’t sure if he meant himself or Gavin.

But suddenly, flaring bright under all of his frustration at this misunderstanding, there was _hope_.

He hated himself for it. He shouldn’t, _shouldn’t_ be seeing this as a renewed _opportunity_ \- hadn’t there been enough damn trouble already?

But glancing over at the bar again - seeing Gavin sitting there, forlornly, hunched over a drink by himself - he looked so upset that Michael couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand being the _cause_ of it-

And suddenly not just because Gavin was his friend and he didn’t like to see him sad.

Even more things were flooding in now. The realisation of how shitty _he’d_ felt, after Gavin supposedly turned him down to Jeremy, this whole time they’d been fighting - how even before then, when he did think Gavin liked him, he’d started properly entertaining the thought of them together. What it might be like. Started feeling, maybe, like it was something he _wanted_ \- was _excited_ for.

And Gavin, since the start, had always been the closest. Bright, happy Gavin who’d relentlessly pushed his way into Michael’s heart, wormed past his defences, been the first person to make Michael _want_ to be a part of something.

For too long he’d been denying what he knew he wanted because he was scared. But maybe being scared was what had caused the trouble.

Geoff was watching him speculatively and when Michael finally looked up and met the other man’s eyes, Geoff seemed to understand that he’d come to some realisation.

“If I leave you two alone here, can you sort this out?” he asked, and after a moment Michael nodded.

“I think so,” he said quietly, and Geoff’s lips twitched.

“I’ll get out of your hair, then,” he said, and knocked back the rest of his drink. He stood up, but then hesitated and put a hand on Michael’s shoulder, leaning in close.

“Don’t hurt him,” he murmured, and the mere fact that it was coming from Ramsey was enough to make it a threat. But before Michael could stiffen Geoff added, softer now, “But take care of yourself too, Michael. Do what you need to for yourself, alright? Just do it gently.”

Michael nodded, and when Geoff smiled and clapped him on the back he managed a smile back as he watched the other man leave the bar. Taking a deep breath, he drained the rest of his drink before turning back to the bar-

Before freezing as he noticed that the seat next to Gavin was occupied by someone else and they were leaning in close, talking.

Michael stiffened, unable to believe his eyes. They were obviously flirting - the guy had one hand touching Gavin’s wrist and was leaning in far too close, murmuring right in his ear rather than sitting back and speaking loudly to be heard over the noise of the pub. Gavin himself was being touchier than Michael usually saw him, more forward - he wasn’t pulling his hand away and even from here Michael could see him laughing. Forced laughter, the sort you did when a joke wasn’t that funny but you wanted to make the teller feel good; a little too enthusiastic rather than authentic.

From this angle Michael couldn’t see the guy’s face, but Gavin had managed to find someone who had even fancier hair than he did; jet black and gelled to oblivion into one of the highest quiffs Michael had ever seen. _Like a fucking cockatoo_ , he thought angrily. _A fucking_ trendy _cockatoo_.

Worst of all, he was wearing a _leather jacket_.

For a moment, he felt disheartened. For a moment, he almost considered accepting that he’d blown his chances and giving up.

But then he kicked himself.

Doubts or not, Michael Jones never gave anything except his furious _all_ into whatever he did. Like hell he wasn’t about to try and fight for this, and rising from his seat, he strode over and cleared his throat loudly behind the two men.

Their heads both whipped around. Gavin’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight of him, the other man just raised his eyebrows, confused. And oh God, okay, he was _hot_ , it was a fucking DEFCON 5 situation over here because the guy was pulling off eyeliner and sort of looked like he’d stepped out of a Korean boyband-

But, a second later, Michael realised that Gavin didn’t exactly look enthralled. As the confusion at seeing Michael faded and he glanced back over at the man, it wasn’t with the softness that Michael had seen in his eyes when he was nervously talking to someone that he’d _finally_ worked up the nerve to go and hit on - the softness that, he was only realising now, he’d gotten used to being directed at _himself_ , even if he’d mistaken it for Gavin’s usual fondness at the time.

That gave him courage. That made him think that maybe this was just a rebound after all, and he cleared his throat.

“Gav. I need to talk to you.”

“What about?” Gavin asked, testily. He was guarded now, and Michael bit his lip.

“Privately?” he asked, and for a second Gavin looked like he was about to refuse. But he stared into Michael’s eyes and must’ve seen something there, because he looked confused for a second, his hard veneer faltering.

“Sorry,” he said, turning to the man. “This won’t take a minute.”

The guy just nodded, smiling patiently, and Gavin slipped off his stool and headed off with Michael back to his table. He didn’t sit down, which left them standing awkwardly next to it.

“What do you want?” he asked again. “That guy was gonna invite me back to his place. He’s really smart. He’s a private investigator. Not a legal one - he tracks people down, like a bounty hunter but without the actual hunting part, just the finding. Also, he plays Halo. I like him a lot.”

Jesus Christ. It figured that the second Michael fucked up his own chances, Gavin would go and meet the human incarnation of perfect boyfriend material. But still - he couldn’t bring himself to give up because even as Gavin was saying it, he didn’t quite sound like he _meant_ it - they seemed like excuses, like he was playing it up to impress Michael. By now, Michael knew him well enough to tell-

But Michael had to be _sure_. Still, somehow, couldn’t quite bring himself to believe a hundred percent that maybe Gavin _hadn’t_ suddenly gotten over him, or had never liked him in the first place  - that he knew what he was doing here-

And the hysterical idea came of him out of the blue, and he was blurting it out before he could even think about it.

“I want to bet with you,” he said, and Gavin looked taken aback.

“What?” he demanded.

“The Of Course game,” Michael said, and Gavin pressed his lips together.

“Why?” he demanded. “So you can insult me some more?”

When Michael didn’t answer-  just stared at him earnestly - his anger faltered, and he sighed.

“I have no money on me,” he said. “I didn’t bring any cash to work today.”

“How about this then,” Michael said, and he was literally just fucking winging this as he went along, “If I win, you don’t go home with that guy.”

Gavin’s mouth actually dropped open.

“You can’t bet with my _sex life_ , Michael!” he squawked, so indignantly that despite the situation Michael actually had to try not to laugh, a bit hysterically. “What the _hell_. And what do _I_ get if I win?”

“Keys to my spare flat,” Michael said without really thinking about it. “It’s the closest place to here - go have fun with him all you want there.”

He regretted it the second he said it, but steeled himself. It was the right decision. If Gavin _wasn’t_ into him then Michael wasn’t about to hold him back. Had to let him move on and do what he wanted - and due to the danger of running into undercover police, or someone hired to kill them, all of the crew had a rule against inviting people back to their own places, or going to others’, in case it was a trap. If Gavin did wanna go bang this guy he was either gonna have to make a forty minute drive to his own spare apartment, or attempt to fuck him in the back of a car, which was never all that fun when you were sore from a recent heist.

“You… you’d let me go shag some guy in _your flat_ ,” Gavin said, eyes so wide they were in danger of popping out of his head.

“Not like I actually live there. So what do you say?” Michael asked. “One last game.”

Gavin stared at him for a moment. His eyes narrowed and he seemed to realise there was something else going on here - but after a moment he nodded, slowly.

“Okay,” he said cautiously. “Okay.”

“I’ll go first,” Michael said. “Do you really want to fuck that guy?”

Gavin froze.

“Of course,” he said quickly, but Michael had seen him hesitate, could tell that the words weren’t sincere, and it sent a surge of hope through him that maybe he hadn’t fucked things up irretrievably here.

“What,” Gavin said then, after a minute when he must have seen Michael smile. “You don’t want me to go home with him?”

“Of course not,” Michael replied, softly - and Gavin tilted his head, practically squinting at him. Michael stared openly back at him. He knew Gavin could tell that he meant it, and after a moment he saw the other man falter again, face softening.

“You think the person you like doesn’t like you back,” Michael said then, quietly. “That’s why you’re upset tonight. That’s why you’re out trying to pick up some other guy.”

Gavin looked incredibly pained.

“Of course,” he forced out, but then a second later and far too vulnerably, “Michael…”

“Your turn,” Michael began, but Gavin was already shaking his head.

“I don’t want to play any more,” he said, sounding rather distressed. “This game is stupid.”

Michael bit his lip and nodded.

“Gavin,” he said, earnestly. “I’m really sorry. I’ve been an ass.”

“Yes, you have,” Gavin agreed immediately, and sighed, reaching up and rubbing at his eyes. “What you said last night… did you mean it?”

“Is this still the game?” Michael couldn’t help asking, and after a moment Gavin nodded.

“Yes.”

Michael reached into his pocket, dug out his keys, and held them out. Gavin’s eyes somehow got even wider.

“B...but you’re going to lose if you don’t say _of course_. You’re gonna give up just like that?”

“I didn’t mean what I said,” Michael insisted. “I refuse to say that I did. You’re not an idiot. And I do care about you. A _lot_ , Gavin.”

Gavin bit at his lip. He looked torn, struggling between hope and disbelief. It was sort of endearing but mostly just heartbreaking. But Michael stood, steadily, holding the keys out until finally Gavin’s face clouded over and he reached out and pushed Michael’s hand away.

“Keep your stupid keys,” he snapped. “You can’t keep joking like that Michael, it’s not _fair_ , you can’t just mess with me like this-”

“You sure about that?” Michael asked, offering the keys again. “Because you take these and you get to pick who you’re taking back to that apartment.”

Gavin froze.

“What does that mean?”

“Him,” Michael said, nodding back towards Cockatoo Guy, who to his credit was still waiting patiently while working his way through a bowl of pretzels. He really was a dreamboat; Michael felt a bit bad about this. He shook it off. “Or me.”

Gavin went very silent.

“Wh-what?” he finally asked, and Michael lowered the keys and stepped closer to him.

“I lied during the game yesterday,” he said quietly. “I was angry; everything I said, I didn’t mean. And I lied the time we played before then - when I said I’d never go out with someone in the crew. When I said I didn’t care. Didn’t I tell you right at the start how fucking dumb this game is? You just say _of course_ to win, no matter what, it’s not true. That’s what I was doing. But it turns out that that’s not the thing that I want to be winning.”

Gavin had chewed his bottom lip to shreds by this point; he reached up and wrapped his arms around himself.

“Don’t play games with me, Michael,” he said, but his uncertainty was faltering again. “I mean it, if you’re not serious here I… I can’t-”

“We’re not playing anymore, Gav,” Michael assured him. “I was upset because I… I misjudged things; I heard you with Jeremy and I thought you meant what you said.”

Gavin seemed to take a moment to remember what Jeremy had to do with all this. When he worked it out, his eyes widened.

“Oh,” he breathed out, and looked horrified. “I didn’t mean that either, Michael, I was just-”

“I can see that now,” Michael said, and grinned. “Guess we both just jumped to conclusions. Well, mostly I did.”

"You really mean it?” Gavin asked yet again, apparently still not _quite_ convinced, and Michael opened his mouth before thinking, suddenly, _better to show than to tell_.

Before he had time to second guess himself he was leaning in. Gavin had the space to move back, but didn’t, and when their lips met he barely hesitated before kissing back, even if he did seem surprised.

There was something very warm and familiar about kissing Gavin. Even if they never had before, as Michael’s hands settled on his hips and he felt Gavin’s own arms wind around his neck, it brought him back to the comfortable familiarity of sitting with each other in companionable silence, knowing when they didn’t need to talk - the excited thrill of grinning at each other after a heist, with sirens ringing out around them and both of them awash with the colourful lights of flares - above all that abiding, grounding _trust_ of knowing the other had their back. It felt _right_ , like everything had fallen into place, and when they finally broke apart Michael realised that he was grinning widely.

Gavin was smiling too, but after a moment he somehow _still_ managed to look concerned.

“Are you sure you’re not…” he trailed off, but when Michael didn't answer, pushed on. “Scared, or… or worried, about this, about-”

Michael could only shake his head fondly, touched by Gavin’s lingering doubts being about whether _he_ was okay.

“Want to go out with me?” was all he said in response to that, and Gavin’s eyes lit up as he realised he was serious. He started to nod, but then paused, grinned, and said instead:

“Of course.”

Michael could only roll his eyes at that.

“That was terrible, I take it back,” he joked, and Gavin dissolved into snickers. _Proper_ laughter this time, that squeaky adorable laugh that had Michael grinning so widely his cheeks hurt. _God_ he loved him, he thought, feeling so fond that he could burst.

Gavin recovered himself. But he wouldn’t stop smiling, and bouncing on his feet like an excited child, he said, “You really like me then, Michael.”

“Of course,” Michael replied, humouring him. “And that’s the last one I’ll ever say because this fucking game ends here and now.”

Gavin laughed. He reached out and took the keys from Michael, replacing them with his own hand as he tangled their fingers together.

“I pick you,” he informed him, and then leaned his head against Michael’s shoulder, a funnily intimate little gesture that made something tug deep in Michael’s chest. He wrapped an arm around Gavin, hugging him close. Glanced up and saw Cockatoo Guy watching them - for a second he was worried he’d cause a scene, but after a moment he just grinned and shot Michael a thumbs up. Bless him. Seriously, Guy of the Year over there and Gavin had still picked _him_.

Definitely no regrets. And definitely not _scared_ , now - somehow, despite everything that had gone wrong the last few days, he couldn’t help but feel as though this time, here in his home, everything would turn out alright.

He leaned in and kissed the top of Gavin’s head before linking their arms and pulling him towards the door.

“Come on. I guess we both win this round then,” he said, and Gavin grinned, pressing close to Michael’s side and they headed out together.


End file.
